The Gray Fox - Vignettes
by toughgirls22
Summary: For those off you wanting more on the tale of Chief and Suzette/Claire, here are a few wee bits.
1. Chapter 1

JUNE 6, 1944 - North of London

Their latest mission had been abruptly canceled, and Garrison gave no reason. If he had his suspicions, he kept them to himself.

On Tuesday morning, the Gorillas were up and about early. They had long since grown accustomed to the drone of bombers passing by, but the rumble of many large flights overhead had somehow penetrated their sleep. Breakfast in the small chow hall in the Manor basement kitchen was quiet, noticeable tension in the air. The entire communication staff was missing.

The Gorillas stayed in the common room, with the radio tuned to BBC. The only news was a repetition of the 8 AM broadcast: residents of Calais, Dunkirk and Le Havre were being warned that a "new phase of Allied bombing has begun."

Mid-morning, Garrison entered the room and four sets of eyes swiveled towards him. A year or two ago, they wouldn't have cared.

"We've had official word from SHEAF headquarters." Garrison came to the point. "The invasion started this morning . Ground forces hit the beach at 0600, backed by Navy and air support . Bombing Calais and the other eastern cities was a diversion – the landing is in Normandy."

Everyone, including the Germans, had expected the invasion across the narrower _Pas De Calais_. Good move, thought Casino. Chief called up his mental map of the French coastline; how far was it to Dijon?

"Early reports are mixed, and we won't know if the invasion is a success or a complete disaster until tomorrow. The first 12 hours are critical."

He looked over the somber faces.

"Regardless, there's still a long war ahead of us, and I don't expect we'll be out of work very soon. But Intelligence is very busy right now, coordinating reports from resistance groups. Apparently they sent out more than 500 messages last night, all over the occupied zones. So I think we can expect to be sitting here for at least a few days while they sift through them."

Garrison caught the brief frown that flashed across Chief's face. What was that about?

He continued, "I'm scheduled to call the Major in an hour, so I may get an update then. Meantime, we'll take today off."

Actor turned the radio back up, and they each settled down to their thoughts. Chief left the room quietly. A walk in the overgrown gardens was suddenly something he needed to do.

He turned down a random path, wondering if Claire was out right now on a sabotage mission, or preparing for one tonight. He tried not to worry about her. Stupid, really, she could take care of herself. And that baker would surely watch her back. She had survived probably dozens of missions over the past few years. Likely she faced more danger while delivering messages around the city, or simply going to the market. Risking discovery each time she communicated with London over the shortwave.

Why was he still thinking about her so much? The erotic dreams he could understand, even if he was a little embarrassed in the morning. It had been a pretty spectacular night. But the images that popped up at odd times were different. Her brave little figure climbing up the ladder **.** Her calm face as she strangled the German soldier. That cautious smile. The intent way she practiced throwing the knife. At least he had left her with an additional skill.

Would he ever even find out if she survived the war? How many others knew her real identity? She had so many cover names. She was the Gray Fox to London, Jacques to the resistance, Suzette and who knows what else to strangers. But she had shared her "true name" with him. Somehow that really meant a lot to him, even more than sharing her sweet body.

Maybe he could try to track her down when it was all over. Meantime, he'd better try to forget about her. There was still a long war ahead.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Garrison was headed down the long driveway when he saw Chief walking in the park. He hadn't seen that brooding attitude in a long time. Something clicked.

He pulled over and waited for Chief to trot up to the car.

"I've been called to London to help wade through the intelligence reports," he said. "I may be gone for a day or two, but I'll try to bring back what news I can find about our friends."

He saw the brief flash of relief in Chief's eyes, but all he said was, "Thanks, Warden."

Garrison nodded casually, then drove off, hiding his smile. He'd always known Chief had a soft heart.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

JUNE 1944 - Occupied Dijon

Claire fiercely chopped up cabbage leaves in her cellar kitchen. She had no real desire for another batch of soup, but needed something to do.

The invasion was two weeks old, but the Allied army's progress had been painfully slow. She had received a brief flurry of coded orders from London, the night before and the days following D-Day. What joy they had taken in dynamiting the chemical plant, destroying railroad lines, even the central freight yard. Now they were reduced to minor sabotage and relaying reports of German troop movements. Liberation was so close, and yet so far. No wonder that she was always tense, sometimes sleepless and _bilieux_.

She wondered if she should leave the city to find the _Maquis_. A wave of patriotic fervor had gripped France following the invasion, and men were suddenly disappearing to the hills and forests. _Maquis_ strength had grown quickly. No, likely they wouldn't let an unattended and unknown girl join the fighting force. Frenchmen were more _chauvin_ then even the Americans. And she was probably of more value here in her own city.

As the soup simmered, Claire sat in her favorite chair and tried to enjoy reading _Wuthering Heights_. The dark Heathcliff made her think of Chief. Rainey. She wondered what he was doing now, and if he ever thought about her. No, probably not. Such a man as he must have many lovers. But perhaps, in the months and years ahead, he might occasionally recall the bold French girl who had seduced him so shamelessly. She had not realized her need for affection and tenderness, but he had. He had been so kind, so gentle, so _sympathique_ … Claire closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to their time together.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

JULY 1944 - London

Garrison had granted them a few days in London following an unusually rough mission in Norway. Everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong. They had eventually destroyed their target, but three more partisans would never see the end of the war.

Actor had gone off to see one of his lady friends, so Casino, Goniff and Chief headed to a dancehall that Casino had found on an earlier prowl.

"Lots of fine girls there," he said. "Nurses, WAAFs, war plant workers, all togged up to party on the weekend. And very willing to support our weary troops." He nudged Goniff, who grinned back.

"Joint is jumpin' tonight," Casino spoke with satisfaction as they stood in the doorway. "So many dollies, eager to enjoy themselves while the war lasts."

"Let's go, mates." Like the others, he had picked up on English slang. "Grab a table and see if we can give them some fond memories of the second Great War."

Sure enough, their table not far from the dance floor attracted a series of friendly girls. Somehow they could recognize Americans at a glance, and Goniff's cheerful Cockney voice made them feel comfortable.

Chief didn't like to dance, so he sat back with his drink and tried to enjoy the conversations. He wasn't real good at that either, but listening was all right. Three good-looking WAAFS seemed to have settled at their table. A fourth, or was it fifth, round of drinks was in front of them, and Chief realized he was getting drunk. He usually only drank beer. Relax and enjoy it, he thought. The girl next to him had red hair, but with her freckles didn't remind him of Claire. He was thinking about her too often, still. Had to get her out of his mind, he'd probably never see her again.

The others got up to dance, but the redhead stayed with Chief. She was swaying with the music, and smiled at him.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't dance."

"That all right, luv, " she replied. "Sometimes I just like to listen to the music. And sit wiv a man relaxing from his awful secret missions." Casino and Goniff had been boasting.

She asked, "Are you having a good time tonight?" Her name was Mary, he remembered.

Chief nodded, and she laid a friendly hand on his arm. He found himself gazing at her ample bosom in the low-cut blue dress. He used to like big breasts. Still did.

He looked up, embarrassed. "Sorry, I think I'm really drunk."

The girl giggled. "Ah, that's all right, sweetie. It's war-time and all." She slid her hand down on top of his.

"Missing your girl back home?"

"Don't have one," he shrugged.

"Maybe you need one tonight, then," she suggested, stroking the edge of his hand with one finger.

Chief looked back at her, trying to focus. She put her other hand on his thigh, and it felt pretty good.

"I'm really drunk," he said again.

"Maybe a breaf of air would help," she replied. Her hand slid further up his leg.

Chief thought slowly, maybe this would be good. Drive all thoughts of Claire out of his head. He stood up cautiously and she guided him out the door. Damn, he was drunk. He didn't like to lose control of himself like that. He took another breath of the stuffy evening air and leaned back against a convenient wall. Better.

The girl snuggled against him and pulled his arms around her. She was soft and plump. Not like Claire at all. Her lips were different, too. He let his hands roam over her curvy hips and full breasts, trying to raise a response to her eagerness. Forget about her. He did like big breasts, so he squeezed them again. The redhead's hands were exploring him all over. Maybe if he pretended it was Claire?

Chief was suddenly disgusted with himself and pulled away. He wasn't being fair to this girl either. She smiled uncertainly, her hands resting on his chest.

"I'm sorry, " he said. "I think I'm too drunk. I'm sorry."

"Nay, nay," she said with a little laugh. "I think you do have a girl."

"Well, yeah, maybe," he admitted.

"And she's a lucky thing, too," Mary said wistfully.

"You really are an attractive girl," Chief said awkwardly. "But I think I'd better go now."

The girl laughed and waved her hand. "Sweet dreams, then, sweetie."

Chief carefully found his way back to the rooming house where they stayed when in London. He thought he was still drunk enough to fall asleep easily, so threw himself across his bed. After a while, he got up and found the bathroom down the hall. He vomited into the toilet and felt a little better. Splashing cold water onto his face, he stared at himself in the spotted mirror. Time heals all wounds. Where had he heard that?

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

AUGUST , 1944 - Occupied Dijon

The news of the liberation of Paris had started a wave of exultation across the country that not even _le Boche_ could suppress. The people of their capital city had risen and struck against the Nazis, even before the French and American troops had reached its outskirts. Surely, the tide was turning and liberation for all of France would come soon.

Like most people now, Claire had a map on the wall where she tracked the progress of the Allied forces. The second invasion on the southern coast had begun almost two weeks before. Which of the advancing lines would reach Dijon first? And how soon? It had taken them ten, no, eleven weeks from Normandy to Paris. A sudden thought caused her pause. She walked slowly over to the calendar and turned back the pages.

Yes, more than eleven weeks to Paris, and Chief had been here two weeks before the invasion. She cast her mind back; had she had her monthly courses since then? She remembered thinking about it once before, but had reasoned it to be excitement over the invasion, and somehow had let it slip from her conscious mind. She studied the calendar again. Was it worry, or a sudden thrill that raised a flush all over her?

She took a deep breath to calm herself, and considered. She knew a few doctors in Dijon, but they were all in her network of informers. Best to go to Lyon next week, then.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

The doctor noted her empty ring finger, but was kind and surprisingly discreet.

"Yes, _madame_ , the tests have confirmed that you are pregnant. I estimate 12 to 18 weeks." He added carefully, "May one ask why you have delayed so long in seeing a doctor?"

"I have been…. distracted," Claire replied. She was sitting very still, little expression on her face as she absorbed the news of what she was sure she already knew.

"Indeed, these have been stressful times." He sighed. "So much happening, and the future so uncertain." The doctor paused. Such a cautious young woman.

"Uncertain times," he repeated. "Perhaps it is too worrisome a time to take on such a burden…. There are certain things that can be done, you know."

"Oh no!" she answered fiercely, coming out of her reverie. "No, not a burden. It is a gift."

She smiled radiantly at the doctor. "Please tell me, what now must I do?"

Claire thought carefully on the train ride home. Fourteen weeks along. Liberation could be only a month or two away. She felt fit and healthy, no _mal de mer_. Slightly thicker around the middle; she herself had attributed that to eating so well from her replenished store of German foodstuffs. No one could tell. The _Jacques_ , like uncles or big brothers, would never allow her to continue her activities if they knew she was _enceinte_.

A child. His child. A new light in her life. Yes, this would be her secret, hers alone.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

September 1944 - See "The Gray Fox – Interlude"


	2. Chapter 2

OCTOBER 1944 - Liberated Dijon

Emile carried the last tray of afternoon _baguettes_ to the front, where Claire was arranging another batch on the back shelves. She had been working at the _boulangerie_ since she came out of hiding after the liberation of the city. His assistant had wanted to join the Free French, and his wife wanted to return to her own kitchen in the back rooms of the shop. Four children demanded a lot of attention.

"This should be enough, don't you think?" he asked the girl.

"Yes, I think so," Claire replied. "This week, we have had only a few loaves left each day."

Emile had expected business to drop off after the occupying army left. Custom was already leveling out, and it seemed that the shop would provide a decent living _pendant ce temps,_ until the war should end.

"Marie said to tell you, she was able to get some fresh cream for you, as well as a small block of _Comté_ cheese."

"What a treat! Please thank her for me," she replied. " Her friend's wife had been very good to her.

A few minutes later, Marie herself entered from the side door. She liked the composed young woman her husband had brought in. She had known her only by name before the liberation, and had been shocked to learn of her secret activities. To spend the best of your teenage years underground! She had thought the girl was living with relatives in _Vichy_ France.

Marie said, " I have put your cream in the icebox, and your ration card is in your basket." She thought Claire looked a bit tired. "I can watch the shop if you'd like to go home early."

"Oh no, thank you, Marie. I enjoy being busy, and don't have much to do at home anyway. "

Marie knew the girl was insistent that she earn her small pay. She also insisted on living in her own apartment, despite the offer of a room in the back. Such independence!

They talked idly until the pre-dinner customers kept them both busy. At one point during the rush, Marie noticed Claire pressing a hand to her side, and watched her more thoughtfully after that. The full skirt and apron hid her figure. _Mon Dieu_ , she thought, could it be?

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

After dinner, when the children had gone to their rooms, Marie turned to her husband.

"Emile, do you think that Claire could be pregnant?"

He looked up in surprise. "What? Is she?"

"I can't be sure, but it looks so to me. Is it possible?"

Emile considered, then answered slowly, "I suppose it is. I know so little of her life beyond our work together."

"And who could the father be?" she demanded.

"I really have no idea," he said thoughtfully. "Certainly none of the _Jacques_. She's like a sister to us. But I never saw much of her outside of _les affaires_." This was his phrase for resistance activity. "And she kept very much to herself."

"Perhaps you can ask her, and offer our help," Marie suggested. "She is so young and so alone."

" _Ma mie_ , I think not, " he replied firmly. "I think it's not my business."

"Then I think it will be my business. Women's business," she answered, just as firmly.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGG

A few days later, Marie managed to find the right time to broach the question.

"Claire, please forgive me if I intrude," she said one afternoon. "Might you be pregnant?"

Claire nodded. "Yes, I am."

"When are you due?"

"It will come in late February," she said calmly.

"Are you pleased?" Marie asked.

"I am very happy." Claire's sudden smile made it clear that it was true.

"Then I'm happy for you too." Marie paused and asked carefully, "Have you… does the father know?"

Claire shook her head, still smiling.

"Will you tell him?"

"Perhaps, after the war." Claire's smile faded a little.

"He is a soldier, then? A _Maquis_?" Marie couldn't help but ask.

"An American commando. He says he will return after the war ends. "

Marie nodded in sympathy. She dared asked no more, at least right now. Suddenly feeling motherly herself, she said "Well, you are alone then. Please know, _ma cher amie_ , that I am here to help you in any way I can. I have had four children myself, and I know what it is all about."

"Thank you, Marie," Claire said softly. "This is… this is still very new to me."

"You won't be able to hide it much longer, you know."

"I know." Claire looked down at the big white apron and smiled again. "It is only that I don't know how to announce that I will soon be an unwed mother."

Marie smiled back. "I'll give you some of my old maternity clothes, they will fit you soon enough. And soon enough people will comprehend."

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

That evening in their bedroom, Marie told Emile what she had learned.

"Might you have met this man?"

Emile thought for a moment. "This spring? There was an American unit here a few weeks before the invasion."

"Can you think which one it might be?"

"I don't know, Marie!" he exclaimed. "I tell you, Claire keeps things to herself."

Marie looked at him steadily. Eventually, he said, "I suppose it might have been the young dark one. I saw them holding hands on _Le Jour de la Libération_."

"But that was only three weeks ago!" she exclaimed.

"The Americans were just passing through. But they stayed here for several days last May. "

Marie thought it over. She asked hesitantly, "You said the dark one. Do you mean, a Negro?"

"No, no. Just _sombre_. More Spanish-looking, maybe Gypsy, " he mused. "Ah, they called him Chief. Perhaps a red Indian."

"What was he like?"

"Quieter than the others," he replied. "Less brash, perhaps."

Marie prompted, "You said young. How old?"

"It's hard to say, maybe twenty-five **,** more or less.

Marie considered all this. "That's a good age for her, she is not yet twenty…. Claire says he promised to come back to see her. Do you think he might?"

Emile sighed and shook his head. "How can I say? These men were a very tough group, Marie, and it's wartime. It may have been just a diversion for him."

But he was holding her hand, Marie thought. There is hope for her yet.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Over the next few months, Claire's pregnancy grew obvious. She seemed to be content, even happy, with her life.

To Marie's surprise, very few people seemed to disapprove, or to show much curiosity. Four years of Nazi occupation had taught them to let each manage one's own business. Not many even knew of Claire's resistance work. She had simply re-appeared when the Germans left, and no one needed to know more. The war not over yet.

When she was asked about her situation, Claire responded simply and proudly, " _Son_ _père_ _est un_ _commando américain_. "

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

DECEMBER 1944 - North of London

It was Christmas Eve and Garrison had insisted they all go to an RAF party at the nearby air base. Even with the recent and unexpected German offensive, the Brits were determined to carry on with the holiday season. After all, they were now facing their sixth year of war. Life must go on.

Chief had been slipping into the maps room on a regular basis. The battle lines they were beginning to call the Bulge were still more than a hundred miles from Dijon, and the arrows seemed to be moving north and west rather than south. Since their brief encounter a few months ago, he had managed to tuck Claire into a special corner of his thoughts. She was safe still, and they would see each other again.

Driving up to the officers mess building, Casino spotted a gray bus with QAIMNS lettered on the side.

"Fantastic," he exclaimed. "The nurses did come to the party! I sure hope they're in their civvies. " The English nurses' old-fashioned uniforms reminded him forcibly of white nuns' habits.

As they entered the bravely-decorated hall, Casino saw that the women were all wearing their best, if slightly shabby, evening attire. The Gorillas were warmly greeted by a number of women. They had all spent some time in the hospital, and most of the nurses harbored a soft spot for this odd group of irregulars.

Garrison, in full uniform, toured the room to make official greetings to the brass. The Gorillas felt no such obligation and decamped to a small table near one of the bars. Several young nurses joined them, sharing the Yule punch (without the egg, of course, they were solemnly advised.) Otherwise, the Brits had gone all-out on refreshments and liquor.

Actor was off dancing with a stunning blonde, and Goniff had been claimed by the Nurse Matron. That rather forbidding title was belied by the daring purple dinner dress seemingly pasted to her body. Nurses Brannon and Randall (Shelly and Norma tonight, if you please,) stayed chatting with Casino and trying to draw Chief out of his usual quiet mode.

After two airmen invited the women to dance, Casino turned to Chief, still nursing his second beer.

"Nurse Norma is rather taken with you," he commented. "She's been making eyes at you ever since Brussels. Just crook a finger and she'll be yours."

"Maybe," Chief replied casually. "But then I'd have to listen to her yack at me all night."

Casino looked him over. "Should I tell her you prefer French?"

Chief frowned dangerously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Casino smiled and laid a friendly hand on Chief's shoulder. "Easy, man…. I just think you're still sweet on our friend Suzette."

Chief put on his blankest expression and said nothing. Casino chuckled as he went off to the bar for a refill.

GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

FEBRUARY 1945 - Liberated Dijon

Claire lay back against the pillows with the baby nestled against her. Marie had just left, having stayed with her as long as the midwife allowed, then anxiously sipping tea until the child was born.

Claire pulled back the blanket again, gazing fondly at her child. Her son. Memories of the ordeal were already fading.

"Light of my life," she whispered to him. His brown eyes were solemn, if unfocused, below the surprisingly dark eyebrows. He looked so much like his father. She reminded herself again that he must still be alive, he was so clever . But if he could not return to see her, she would have a part of him forever.

"Jean-Luc," she tested the name. It would have been Lucille for a girl. She traced the small bow mouth with a finger, but he did not smile.

"René,"she decided. "René Patrice. You are my beloved son."


End file.
